I Should Go
by MrsFish
Summary: AU: Set during HP second year, in a world where Voldemort was destroyed when Lily died. Snape is ever the surly potions Professor. Ariadne Selwyn is in her final year. 'She saw a spark in the black tunnels that were his eyes. "Hands on the desk," he told her in a dangerous voice. "I'm going to teach you a lesson."' Surprisingly, not PWP. But rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

**It's been a while since I posted anything on here. Do we still need to do disclaimers and all that nonsense? I don't own anything. Just ramblings. Hope you enjoy.**

Chapter 1

It was her favourite class. She didn't enjoy much of her schooling. Instead she preferred to see her time at Hogwarts as a means to an end, or something with which she could keep herself occupied. But she was good at potions. Really good. And although Professor Snape was never one to praise his students, she liked to believe that he treated her with a little less disdain than all the rest.

It was early March, but the dungeons were colder than usual. She worked without her school jumper on though because the Oculus potion she was brewing required a very high heat, and she had begun to sweat with the constant stirring.

She puzzled over the cauldron a little while longer. It should have turned orange by now but was still an annoying shade of indigo. She nearly went head first into it, when she felt a shove from behind her.

"Watch it, Selwyn!"

Marcus Flint was growling at her. "Some of us are trying to work," he had said with a nasty leer, before returning to his own cauldron.

"Just ignore him," Holly whispered from the desk next to hers. "He's such a prat."

Ariadne nodded in agreement. She was used to Flint by now. Ever since Autumn term, Flint had been sniffing around her. When she'd made it very clear she'd rather go out with a dung beetle for their more stimulating conversation, his face had turned to thunder and ever since he'd retaliated with petty acts of intimidation.

She ignored him and carried on working. A smile crept onto her face as the potion turned orange.

She turned down the heat slightly and waited for the next change. She stole a glance over in Flint's direction. He looked like he was struggling. She could at least take some pleasure in that.

Over the Christmas break, her mother had wanted to know all about what was happening at school. Her little girl had turned 18, she was all grown up; she had to start thinking about her future.

Her mother had always been very proud of their lineage, and as a result had always been very keen that her daughter met a nice pureblood boy.

She'd made the mistake of mentioning Flint's interest in her.

_"__Marcus Flint?" her mother had asked with a glint in her eye._

_"__Yes, but I don't like him."_

_"__Ariadne," her mother cooed softly, "Maybe you could give him another chance, hm? He may not be all that bad."_

_But Ariadne had been firm._

_"__No."_

_"__Just a little date," her mother pressed her, "the Flints are a good family."_

_"__I don't care," Ariadne countered, her blood rising, "Marcus is a gorilla who has learnt to walk on his hind legs," _

_"__Maybe if you just got to know him-"_

_"__I'm not interested," Ariadne cut her off abruptly. _

_Her mother looked at her for a long while with a look of utter consternation. _

_"__You know, sometimes, I honestly don't know where you came from."_

They didn't speak again for over a week.

Her memory of that horrible holiday was disrupted with a huge clatter and shout from the surrounding students.

She stood frozen in shock. Her cauldron was upturned on the floor, and somewhere on the other side of the room, Flint was hiding his wand quickly.

"Miss Selwyn, what on earth has happened?"

Snape was in front of her, bearing down on her with a voice full of disparagement. With a flick of his wrist the spilt potion disappeared, and the now empty cauldron rocked back and forth on the flagstones like a haunted crib.

"I'm sorry, Sir-"

"Detention after dinner," he snapped, "to keep you out of any further mischief."

Her shoulders sagged.

She could feel Flint's eyes on her, waiting for her to look at him so he could goad her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

After class had finished, she went to dinner, ate quickly and alone, before returning to the dungeons.

Snape was waiting for her, sitting at his desk with piles of parchment to read.

"What would you like me to do, Sir?" she asked him.

"You can start again," he told her coldly, indicating to a bench he had set up for her, "complete the potion without incident this time."

She nodded, and silently began preparing the ingredients.

They both worked in silence for the duration of the evening. She followed the instructions to a T and again waited for the potion to turn purple.

She looked over at Snape. His head was bent over in concentration at the papers on his desk, the quill in his hand moving quickly, no doubt scribbling out some terse, harsh comment that would break a first year's heart.

The only praiseworthy thing she could ever remember him writing on an essay of hers was "this is accurate".

She wondered about him sometimes. She even dreamed about him.

She often wondered whether his life felt as boring and perfunctory as hers. If he too felt removed from all the other people in the castle, as if there was a pane of glass separating him from all other human interaction? She liked how unreadable he was. She could easily understand how he had made such a good spy during the war.

She looked down at the cauldron again. It was now a beautiful shade of mauve. She added the final elements and watched it turn orange again.

"Sir?" she called to him. He stopped writing and her eyes lingered on his long fingers. "I've finished."

He got up swiftly, and approached her, his robes elegantly billowing about him. He looked down into the cauldron. Sometimes she imagined him as a huge black raven – would that be his animagi?

Using a ladle he brought the concoction to his nose and smelled the contents.

"This is passable," he told her. "Next time, remove the cauldron from the heat before adding the final portion of mandrake."

She nodded. She supposed "passable" was the best she could ever hope to get from him.

"You may clear up and then go back to the common room," he told her, before stalking back to his desk.

She packed up quietly, a dread beginning to settle in her stomach. She knew what would be waiting for her when she got there: Flint and his friends. All of them ready to start taking bites out of her.

She picked up her books and moved towards Snape's desk.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else I can help you with, Sir?"

He looked up from his work.

"Does any of your equipment need cleaning?" she suggested meekly, "Or I could even help with marking some of the first year's work?"

He thought for a moment, before putting his quill down.

"How long exactly has this been going on?" he asked.

"What, Sir?"

"Flint," he said in a tired manner, folding his arms. "He's been torturing you."

She didn't know what to say to that. She couldn't deny that Flint had been behaving horribly to her. It wasn't that she couldn't stop him if she wanted to; it was more that she didn't have the energy to. On some level, she thought she deserved it.

"If you knew he made the cauldron tip over," she asked finally, chewing her lip, "then why am _I _the one in detention?"

He gave her a sardonic look.

"Because if I punished Flint, Miss Selwyn, he'd just punish you later for it. If you're here with me-" he paused as if he'd suddenly lost his train of thought, "-you can't get into any more trouble."

She faltered for a moment. She hadn't realised he'd been taking such an interest, or that he understood the situation so comprehensively.

"Forgive me, Sir…but that doesn't really seem like much of an answer to the problem."

He pursed his lips, "You're right, it isn't… Maybe you'd like detention with me every night for a month? Is that a more long lasting solution?"

She thought for a moment. "It would certainly be preferable, yes, Sir."

He laughed without humour, "My my. I see things are a lot worse than I thought."

She continued to stand there, unsure of what to do.

"Alright. Stay. Do whatever other work you have," he conceded, "I only have one request - that you work in absolute silence. Do not pester me."

"Agreed," she said.

She suppressed a smile, and took a seat at the lab bench directly opposite his. They worked peacefully for the rest of the evening. When it was 9 o'clock Snape told her to go bed, and she did so without complaint.

But before she left the lab, she turned back to the surly professor, still hard at work over his marking.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," she said, with genuine gratitude.

"I do believe you are the first student to ever thank me for detention, Miss Selwyn," he replied without looking up at her. "Tomorrow, then."

She nodded. "Tomorrow."

And with that, a dangerous precedent was set. Every night she appeared to the quiet safety of the lab. Sometimes he would sit at the head desk where she could sneak glances at him, and sometimes he would hide away in his office, which adjoined the dungeon. It was so easy to explain it away as detention, and now Flint hardly had the time to seek her out and make himself a menace.

Occasionally she would test the boundaries. She would timidly ask Snape questions while they worked; sometimes about what she was studying, sometimes about potions or his day to day life. Each time he would fix her with a disparaging look, and remind her to stop speaking. She knew she shouldn't be so inquisitive, but she loved the thrill of fear that would pass through her before she spoke and waited for his snarky reply. Like tickling a sleeping dragon she wondered how far she could go before he reared his head and truly scolded her.

One night, as she was working in the potions lab, she stretched and yawned very deeply. She had just finished an extremely long essay on the History of the Portus charm, when she caught Snape looking at her from over his book.

"Perhaps you ought to return to the dormitories, Miss Selwyn?" he suggested.

"Where do you sleep, Sir?" she asked out of interest.

"That is none of your business," he replied quickly.

She began to gather her things. "What are you reading?"

He looked at her with annoyance, snapping the book shut quickly. "Again, that is none of your business."

She gave up and began to make her way to the door.

"Come into my office for a moment, Miss Selwyn," he ordered.

She did as instructed. The rounded room was barely lit, although the jars that lined the walls gave off a faint light, as if curiously lit from within.

She closed the door behind her, and gasped in shock and excitement as she found his body towering over hers. She flattened herself against the wood, despite her body's desperation to lean in.

She felt her whole body flush as he looked down at her. She was tall for her age, but he still had a good half a foot over her, and when he was this close she could make out the hum of anger and magic vibrating off him. The dragon was awake.

"I told you I wanted silence," he told her darkly, his mouth very close to hers. Her stomach fizzed with delicious terror.

She didn't say anything. Instead she gathered all her nerve and moved her lips up to meet his.

He froze. It was a brief kiss, entirely initiated and prolonged by herself. And when she pulled back, she saw what she thought saw a spark in the black tunnels of his eyes.

He remained still and barely breathing, like she'd stunned him, and she began to worry she had made a huge mistake.

He didn't say anything for a long time, and her nervousness grew more pronounced. She reached up a hand to touch his face and he quickly smacked it away.

"Hands on the desk," he told her in a dangerous voice, "I'm going to teach you a lesson."

On shaky legs she carried herself over to it, and bending over, placed her palms flat on the desk. She felt the coolness travel up the back of her thighs as her skirt rode up slightly.

"You are to remain here, in silence, until you have learnt how to behave," he told her. She heard the door slam shut behind her, and she let out a shuddering breath. Her arousal was replaced by panic. Fuck. What happened now?

She tried not to think about it, or let the fear consume her. She tried to focus on the items on his desk. His quill, his handwriting, his fingers-

No. She couldn't think about that. She waited and waited. He didn't return. She began to name all the herbs she could think of from A-Z. When she reached St John's Wort, she heard the door open again.

She remained as still as possible, as he lingered behind her.

"I see you have managed to gain control of yourself," he said finally, moving around to the other side of the desk and sat down. He wouldn't look at her.

"You will leave now," he told her. He began to busy himself with things on the desk, but it seemed to her as if he was lacking purpose. "And we will never speak of this _again_."

She didn't move.

"Do you have something else you wish to say, Miss Selwyn?" he asked, as if nothing had happened. His eyes met hers and they seemed impossibly darker than before.

She shook her head.

"Then what are you still doing in my office? Detention is over. You will not be coming back here in the future."

She frowned in horror at the suggestion. She wasn't going back to the way things were.

She stormed towards the door, but instead of opening it, turned the key in the lock and then deposited it into the left cup of her bra.

He looked at her as if she had sprouted two heads.

"What on earth-" he began, his face contorting angrily, "open that door immediately!"

"If you want the key so badly," she told him, "then why don't you fish it out?"

In a moment he was on his feet and lunging at her. Without even thinking she bolted. As he chased her around the desk, she found herself laughing for the first time in months. Exhilarated, her heart pounded as if trying to escape her chest. Eventually he caught her; his face was thunderous as he pushed her wriggling body down onto the desk. Drunk on the excitement, she grabbed his face with both hands and brought his lips down to hers.

He pushed her off him abruptly, slamming her back down onto the desk. She felt the breath leave her lungs, and arousal began to crawl up her spine like a spider.

She bravely moved her hands down to the front of his robes and felt him through the material. He was hard. He slapped her hand away, and then dragged her up again, so they were face to face, turned her around, and bent her back over the desk. The cool of the leather pressed unforgivingly against her left cheek as he flattened her against the desk. She could feel the jerk of his cock tantalisingly against her thigh. She arched back up against him and was rewarded with a hiss.

Something snapped in him then, and he leaned over her and his right hand found the back of her right thigh. It hesitated there a moment before it moved to the hem of her underwear. With a violent tug he yanked them down and his fingers sank in between her legs.

She could feel them slide over her wetness gleefully, and when they found her clitoris, she cried out.

"Is this _really_ what you want?" he hissed in her ear, his fingers stilling.

"Oh, Gods, yes," she breathed.

His fingers happily resumed their work. She moaned wantonly on the desk as they brought her to breaking point quicker than she could ever have imagined. In her pleasure she had barely noticed him freeing himself of his trousers and soon she felt the head of his cock brushing her entrance.

His right hand clasped the back of her neck, holding her down against the leather, while the left gripped his cock and guided it in.

She groaned as he filled her. She tried to turn her head to look at him, but he held her fast in place as he began to thrust un-lovingly hard into her.

She could barely breathe as she felt her body give way to pleasure. Her nails clawed at the desk as her orgasm broke over her. She let out a long low groan, and felt him shudder and gasp behind her.

His weight press down upon her and his laboured breath seared the back of her neck. They panted in silence until eventually their breath evened out and the sweat on their bodies chilled. She could still feel him twitching inside of her.

His fingers finally unclasped themselves from her neck and slowly brushed down her spine. The caress was almost tender, and she wondered how long he had been thinking of doing this to her. She waited for him to pull out of her and begin to dress again before she gingerly peeled herself off his desk.

She replaced her underwear and removed the key from her bra. She turned to look at him.

"Not a word, Miss Selwyn."

It was a warning, she knew that. She nodded.

She returned the key to the lock and opened the door.

"I'll expect you here again tomorrow," he told her. He didn't have a hair out of place. "Your detention is far from over."

After she left him, she found herself back in the girl's dormitory, with absolutely no knowledge as to how she got there. She had walked in a trance all the way back to the Slytherin Common Room, still reliving what had just happened in her mind and feeling the pleasant tingle in her lower abdomen.

She'd fantasised about kissing him hundreds of times before, but she'd never imagined it could actually happen. And now that it had, she felt frightened and elated in equal measure. The world felt like it had been jolted sideways suddenly, and a million unanswered questions jumbled inside her.

Yet she knew one thing with absolute clarity; she wanted it to happen again. He'd told her to come back again tomorrow night. She just didn't know if she could wait that long.

* * *

**This is a finished story, new chapters will be published every week. So if you like it, let me know. I am a thirsty bitch for reviews. Mrs F.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next night she returned to the Potions lab. She heard the thrum of her elevated heartbeat in her ears as she eased open the door.

A head of cascading long blonde hair swivelled around to look at her. The man looked her up and down, as she stood there gormlessly, unsure of what to say or do.

Snape appeared from his office without noticing her, and handed a piece of parchment to the blonde man.

"It appears you have a visitor," the blonde said, nodding in Ariadne's direction.

"Miss Selwyn," the Potions Master greeted her with indifference, swivelling around to face her, "please wait outside a moment."

"Miss Selwyn?" The man repeated, fixing her with a stare again and stopping her in her tracks, "Whatever is a student doing visiting you at this hour?"

"She's serving detention, Lucius," said Snape tersely.

"You gave one of your own student's _detention_?" Lucius asked jovially, "She must be very bad indeed. A veritable monster."

"Outside, Miss Selwyn," he repeated, and she went without question.

When outside, she took some deep breaths. She could hear the two baritone voices resonating within but couldn't make out what they were saying. After a few minutes, the door to the lab opened and Draco's father appeared.

"He says you may go in now," Lucius said silkily. He made to move away but then thought better of it. "Do you know who I am?" he asked genially.

"You're Lucius Malfoy. Draco's father," she said.

"You know Draco?" he asked.

"Not really," she replied, feeling self conscious. His eyes seemed to roam over her.

"Miss Selwyn," he said her name again, "your mother is Lavinia. Your father was-"

"We don't talk about him," Ariadne said with finality, folding her arms over her chest.

Lucius looked a little taken aback. "Of course not," he said knowingly, and then as if they had never mentioned it, "a pleasure to meet you."

She watched him walk away and felt the tension drain from her body.

She walked back into the room and stood there perplexed.

"Next time, I advise you to knock," said Snape with a disparaging tone, as he leaned calmly against his desk.

"What was he doing here?" she asked.

"He's a governor of the school. And an old friend," Snape explained. "He's doing what he usually does – causing trouble."

"For you?" she questioned, moving further into the room.

"No, for Dumbledore," said Snape with a sigh. "He wants him sacked. Always has."

"If you disagree with him about that, why not tell him?" she asked.

Snape looked at her with frustration, "it's complicated."

She moved closer to the desk, until she was standing in front of him. She wasn't sure what to do now.

"It's best that a limited amount of people know you're "serving detention" and needless to say no one knows what goes on when you are here." he said eventually. "Who knows you came this evening?"

She shrugged, "no one. Apart from your _friend_."

"This is an unusual situation…" he began, sitting down at his desk.

She refrained from rolling her eyes.

"I won't tell anyone," she promised quietly.

"No, I don't think you would," he said, looking at her carefully. His gaze wandered down her body, and she felt that tension and excitement knot inside her.

She approached him slowly, until she was standing next to him, he titled his body so he was looking up at her. She placed one hand on the desk to steady herself, and lowered herself to her knees before him, her hand came to rest on his left inner thigh.

She'd never done anything like this before, but she'd heard enough whispers in the dormitories to feel ready to try.

Her hand crept higher up his leg and he didn't move, just fixed her with that dark look she had seen on his face the night before when she'd kissed him. Her hand reached his crotch and she could feel that telltale hardness.

Unbuttoning his flies was fiddly but he helped her and when his cock was before her, she took the tip in her mouth and swirled her tongue gently around the head.

She had closed her eyes, but when she opened them again she saw his head was now thrown back against the chair and his mouth slack.

She kissed down the side of his cock and nibbled at the base, while her right hand enclosed the shaft. Her left hand found its way into his trousers and massaged his balls.

He groaned and she smiled against him. She took him into her mouth again and moaned as he slid against her tongue. His hands found their way into her hair and yanked her head back.

He pulled her upwards and settled her on top of him. She tried to kiss him, but he moved his face away from hers, pulling at the buttons of her shirt. His hands moved up to her breasts and cupped them, as if he was weighing them. One hand then moved around her waist and pulled her down closer to him.

His other hand crept down between her legs. She was wet again and she could feel her lips clenching in anticipation.

Once he'd ripped her underwear off of her, she sank down onto him and nearly cried. Their joining was less frantic than the night before but no less satisfying. When she came, Ariadne found herself crying out his first name, as he bit down on her shoulder, and emptied himself into her.

She savoured the noise of him breathing into her neck. It was harsh from their activity. Her hands still rested on his shoulders, his crown fit neatly against her cheek. She wanted to stay here longer. She slowly moved her arms, frightened that she would stir him out of their shared tranquillity, with the aim of wrapping them around him. But as she shifted, he drew back from her, and she saw that he was her teacher again.

His hands gently began to lift her off of him, and she followed without complaint, although it danced on her tongue.

When they both were decent, he stood up and reached into a drawer of his desk. From it, he removed a small vial of what looked like black liquid. He handed it to her.

"Drink this," he said. She inspected it a bit closer, and realised it wasn't black but a very deep, viscous red.

"Is this what I think it is?" she asked.

He nodded. "It will protect you against the other night, and for the next six months."

She quirked her eyebrow. So he was thinking more long term.

She removed the stopper and swallowed the contraceptive potion all in one go.

"Good," he said, taking the empty vial from her, and avoiding her eyes. "Don't leave anything behind."

He was locking her out again, and yet the door to his office sprang open.

"Am I excused from detention, Sir?" She asked, unable to keep the coldness out of her voice.

"Yes," he replied, his voice devoid of any emotion.

She felt icy disappointment fill her veins.

"For this evening or for the rest of the month?" she asked.

He looked at her then.

"It was always your choice to remain in detention, Miss Selwyn, in case you had forgotten," he said, in a low voice. "If you no longer wish to work here, you need not attend tomorrow night, or any night after."

She picked up the book, and examined in again. "I want to," she said, "but I don't want to be a burden on you and your time…"

"You're not."

_"__At the moment" _Her inner voice chipped in.

She nodded, suddenly losing the courage to look him in the eye. She turned on her heel and walked out without another word. She hugged her arms closely to her, and tried not to cry.


	3. Chapter 3

She thought about him a lot. About what he had said to her about the need to keep their meetings secret, and how no one could know. Of course, no one could know. She wasn't an idiot - she understood how things worked.

Professors couldn't have dalliances with students, even if they were old enough. Teachers had a duty of care. Blah blah blah.

But Ariadne didn't want protection from him. She just wanted him.

The more she thought about it, a plan formed in her head. It was simple really; they could keep it secret. They just needed a better way of communicating.

The next night she visited she presented it to him.

He stared at the blank piece of parchment she placed on his desk with a flourish. He looked at her with unguarded annoyance.

"What is this?" he asked with consternation.

She took a piece of parchment from her skirt pocket and a quill and scratched it over the paper.

A second later, the parchment on Snape's desk vibrated and the message appeared before him like a mirage in the desert.

_Hello._

The black word, her handwriting, remained there for a few seconds before fading away to nothing. The parchment folded itself up and settled calmly on the desk.

"I read about the spell in a book last year and thought it was useful," she said softly, "two pieces of the same parchment, connected to each other by magic - when you write on your piece it will appear on mine, and remain until I open the note. Once I read it, it disappears, so no one else can see. And vice versa….Keep it with you, and if we need to contact each other, we can."

He looked down at the parchment, his expression unreadable, before quickly putting it away in his robes.

"Good," he said simply. Then he had her on the desk.

For their own sanity, and safety, Snape had insisted on several nights apart, which had been torture to Ariadne, particularly in her next potions lesson when he'd been so close and yet untouchable.

She felt clammy and on edge every time he slipped past her. After the lesson she'd rushed to the nearest bathroom and in the cubicle brought herself to orgasm. As the tremors subsided, the parchment in her pocket vibrated to life.

_Tonight. Potions lab. 7.30pm._

She nearly wept with relief.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"You're late," he said as soon as she opened the door. It was 7.45pm.

"I had to take the long way round," she explained. "Peeves is causing havoc outside the prefects bathrooms."

"Is he indeed?"

"You don't believe me?" She's asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Why would you lie?" He asked her, a shrewd look on his face.

She took a deep breath.

"Alright. Your friend, Mr Malfoy, stopped me and wanted to ask me some questions," she confessed, "I told him I was on my way to detention and I couldn't be late, but he said you wouldn't mind if I was detained by him because you were _old friends…_"

Snape's eyebrows rose. She could see he was uncomfortable now, she should have told him the truth straight away.

"I'm not lying about Peeves though," she said quickly. "He really is causing trouble out there."

She put down her books, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

"What did he ask you?"

She could see the concern on his face. His voice was soft but his eyes betrayed a worry.

"I didn't tell him anything," she said, "I've told you, I wouldn't tell a soul."

"Not even your friend, Miss Johnson?"

It was true, Holly was one of the few people she could stand in this place, but she was hardly going to risk it all by telling her anything. She was too prudish – she'd make a big thing of it.

"No," Ariadne said truthfully.

Snape seemed placated.

"Did Lucius ask you about your studies?" He enquired again. She hadn't expected him to be so dogged with his questions.

She sighed. "If you must know he mostly asked about my family. Apparently his mother went to school with my grandmother. Can we drop it now?"

"I haven't finished asking-" he said, in a tone that broached no arguing.

"Interrogating, more like."

He glowered at her.

"He's interested in a new wife," he said suddenly, "Draco's mother died a year ago."

She shuddered. "That must be why he's asked after my mother...I can't think of anything worse."

"...I think he may have a slightly younger bride in mind," Snape looked very sour at this. "One would hope that a member of the governing board of the school would have slightly better manners than to start propositioning seventh years... and before you say anything, I'm fully aware of the hypocrisy."

A smile broke over her face.

"I didn't have you as the jealous type, Professor," She teased. But she could see he was not in the mood.

He slowly approached her. Every step controlled and intentional.

"Hardly," he said.

She couldn't help the swell of disappointment within her.

"Anyway, like I said, you have nothing to worry about. If I tell anyone about us, that's my school life over, and your career ruined. And I'd rather die than have anyone think I'm only good at potions because I'm sleeping with the teacher."

He laughed at that.

"I keep my secrets," she swore again.

"Even if you were being tortured under the cruciatus?" He questioned, floating towards her.

"Even then," she said determinedly.

"You silly girl," he chuckled darkly, "You'd spill everything. As well as the contents of your stomach..."

She frowned. The realisation knitting together.

"You've had it done to you, haven't you?"

He came to a stop two metres before her and folded his arms over his chest.

She often wondered about what had happened to him during the war. What he had done and who he had killed to stay alive. She shivered.

"Is this the sort of pillow talk you were imagining having with me?" He queried, a slight impatience showing through.

"I'm sorry for trying to show an interest," she replied testily. "As you're so keen to get on with it, where do you want me? Legs spread open on the desk or against the stock cupboard door?"

"This isn't a business transaction. I'm not a paying client," he scoffed.

"Then don't treat me like one," she rebutted, eyes flashing.

He was silent for a few moments.

"I find discussing my past difficult," he said finally, "I always have. Don't be upset. I was trying, ineptly it seems, to change the subject."

She didn't say anything, but resolutely stared at the ground.

"If you like..." he began carefully, "...you can leave. Do not feel you have to stay here if you no longer wish to."

She thought about it. She could go hide in the Library. But she wanted him. She wanted to feel him against her again. To be enveloped and used.

"No, I want to stay," she said quietly, looking him in the eye.

He detached himself from her gaze and moved back to his work bench.

"I found your essay about the importance of devils snare very interesting," he said to her.

"It needs refining," she shrugged, beginning to move closer to him.

"Come in here a moment," he told her.

He walked into his office and she followed. He then took her through a door to his left. It took her a moment to realise she was now standing in his personal quarters.

She tried not to gawp too noticeably at this precious glimpse into his life.

The room was small and its central feature, a large stone fireplace, was its main source of light. A standing lamp in the corner gave a muted glow to the rest of the room, and slightly illuminated the many bookshelves that lined the walls. The volumes were all hardback bound and well used, some she imagined may fall apart should she pick them up to read the titles. Some even seemed to whisper to her, vibrating with dark magic.

She held her breath and turned her attention back to Snape who was standing over a coffee table littered with books, frowning. He found what he was looking for under an old newspaper and proffered it to her.

"Here," he said, "you'll find this useful."

Her fingers clasped the book and drew it to her.

"A Brewers Guide to Potions" she read the title aloud. "I have seen this referenced many times..."

Snape's mouth curved upwards, "yes, it's no longer printed. Some of Eurydice's ideas were a little too outlandish for some...but I have found it to be very interesting. It may help you with your essay...and the upcoming exams."

She felt a flutter in her chest at holding something so dear to him.

"Thank you," she said softly, almost stroking the bindings.

She caught sight of his bedroom through a door behind him. The sight of a four poster bed made her knees tremble.

"Your rooms are smaller than I expected," she said.

His eyebrow twitched in surprise.

"I am only one person," he said, "why would I need more space than this?"

She looked at the bulging shelves.

"A Library extension, maybe?" She pointed out.

"I keep most of my collection at my family home," he said.

"And where is that?"

She couldn't help herself. Even after what had just happened. She wanted to know everything about him and crawl inside his life.

His mouth became a hard line.

"That's none of your business."

He hadn't said it with anger, there was almost a touch of humour to it.

"Do you want me to close the door?" she asked, the hand not holding the book danced along her collarbone.

He didn't say anything.

"I want to close the door," she told him.

She saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed.

"Not in here," he said and pushed her back through the door and into his office once more. The door to his rooms shut with a resounding bang, and he pushed her back up against it, his eyes dark and longing.

She tried to kiss him, but he dodged her. She couldn't understand why he was so reticent about that. All she wanted sometimes as she lay awake at night was to kiss him. Was it something about her? Did she not kiss the way she should do? Did she taste wrong?

She was so lost in thought she didn't fully comprehend that he was stooping to remove her tights and underwear.

She felt dizzy as he sank to his knees before her and hooked her right leg over his shoulder.

When his tongue flicked quickly over her clit she squealed. She'd never experienced cunnilingis before and it startled her. It almost tickled.

His tongue gave a few more experimental swipes over her clit before moving lower, down to her lips. She felt him slide over every crevice and the heat of his tongue was intensely beautiful on her swollen skin.

She felt her clit throb painfully as the blood rushed towards that region, and when his fingers replaced his tongue she couldn't stop herself from moaning loudly. His tongue resumed its work on her clit, with smooth, measured, rhythmic strokes.

She grabbed onto the door to stop herself from toppling over as he latched on and began to suckle. She felt herself nosedive into her orgasm with startling quickness, and she was slightly worried she'd have concussion from the way her head violently connected with the door as she howled with release.

Before she had seconds to think she was turned around and pressed up against the door. She felt his hands on her breasts, pulling her shirt open and his greedy hands pulled her back against him. She could feel his cock throbbing against her naked thigh and she wanted it badly.

He moved her legs slightly further apart and anchored one of her hands to the door frame.

"Are you sure you won't reveal your secrets, Miss Selwyn?" He whispered in her ear.

She groaned.

"No."

"You're not going to tell a soul?" He asked, before biting her neck animalistically.

"I wouldn't say anything," she breathed out. His fingers were roaming all over her again and making her ache.

"Not a thing about how I just made you come?"

She shook her head vehemently, unable to get the words out anymore. Why wouldn't he just fuck her already?

"Or how I'm going to fuck you against this door until you can no longer stand?"

Her lip quivered. She closed her eyes and tried to grab him but he forcefully planted her hands back on the door.

"Not a word," she gasped.

"Good."

She nearly cried when he slid into her. His cock was the only thing she wanted in that moment and when he was inside her, she felt a fullness she couldn't describe.

His thrusts were deep but slow to begin with, so she could feel the whole length of him. But as she began to moan, he got faster and less careful.

She heard him become more excited, and felt his teeth on her shoulder on more than one occasion.

The feel of him was so exquisite she felt a second orgasm building inside her. She begged him for more and he happily gave it to her, thrusting harder and faster.

She cried out as it broke upon her and his left hand grasped hers, while his right held her closely against him.

She heard him gasp in her ear, his hand clenching hers and his lips breathing her name in her ear as he too experienced his release.

It was times like these that she desperately longed for a bed. She wanted to collapse on top of him, rather than have her upper body go numb from being pressed against hard wood.

He was still breathing raggedly in her ear and her hand was still encased in his. It covered hers entirely and she enjoyed the comforting weight to it. She felt the urge to kiss it.

Instead she placed her free hand over his arm that enclosed her and they recovered their breath together. She wondered if this was the closest to a hug they'd ever have.

His hand moved up to the back of her neck, and rested there for a moment before his fingers began to entwine in her hair. She held her breath. When his fingers lost interest in the black strands they slowly dipped down to her shoulders, and swept along the length of them, one side to the other. She was sure he'd be able to hear her heart thumping in her chest, as he pressed his face into the back of her neck and held it there for a moment.

This gentleness was suffocating her. She couldn't move or breathe for fear it would make him stop.

She couldn't bear it any longer so she craned her head around to his. As soon as her lips made contact with his cheek, he withdrew from her. She had to brace herself against the door as the suddenness of the loss.

"Next time," she managed, "I think I'd prefer a bed."

He didn't reply to that, but began to redress himself.

When she finally took leave of him, she felt as unfulfilled as she did before she came to him.


	4. Chapter 4

It was late March and her mother was desperate to have her home during the break in the term. She didn't know why. It seemed to her that every time she went back to the house, they ended up on a worse footing than they had begun.

Luckily for her, the impending exams gave her a good enough reason to stay behind. The castle was quieter now and Snape's messages had become more persistent and far more reckless. Once he had made the prefect's bathroom available for one of their trysts. She'd filled the bath with bubbles and rode him, and when they were both sated, they'd lounged in the water. She'd asked him about the creatures in the lake and he'd told her dreadful, wonderful stories. She'd been happy.

Other nights, when he patrolled the halls at night he would "accidentally" find her loitering in the hallways, he'd grasp her arm firmly and teach her a lesson in a nearby classroom.

Her enchanted note did its job perfectly, and every day she glowed when she felt the tell tale vibration. She couldn't bear to removed it from her person, even when she went to bed. She wanted to be available to him at all times. And she wanted to guard this secret, this perfect piece of him, that only belonged to her.

One afternoon in mid April, after the holidays were over, she had felt the parchment spring to life while in History of Magic. She wasn't that good at the subject at the best of times, but it wasn't helped when she spent the remainder of the lesson, unable to focus on anything else but what was in her pocket.

She blessed Merlin when the lesson was over and she could withdraw to the quiet of the girls' dormitory and read it in private. Hidden away on her bed, with curtains drawn and heart pounding, she unfurled the note and read the contents.

_This is over._

She felt a tightness in her throat and tried to clear it to no avail. She re-read it again. The three words still were emblazoned on the parchment, simple and horrifying, before they shifted away like smoke in a breeze.

She felt hot tears spring to her eyes and her chest heave of its own accord. Panic and turmoil rattled through her bones, but more than that, confusion. Why had he done this now? What had she done to make this happen?

Spitefully, she balled up the note in her hand and thought about destroying it; burning it away. Instead she stuffed in back within her skirt, wiped away the tears and tore from the room.

She stormed through the dungeon passageways and out into the grounds by the quickest means necessary. Her streaming eyes grew looks of concern, sometimes snickers, but she didn't care. She wanted answers and she would get them, but he was still teaching which gave her several hours to rage before she could even think of approaching him. That was why he sent the note now, she realised, because he knew she knew she couldn't confront him immediately. Coward.

So instead she wandered as close to the Forbidden Forest as she could dare and let loose. Spell after spell she hurled into the abyss and took joy in the rustling of the leaves as they ricocheted. She had to stop eventually when she became too incensed and severed a large oak branch from its centuries' old trunk. Like an amputated limb it crashed to the floor, still twitching and, rather shocked at herself, she put her wand away.

She stared out into the darkness of the trees. Depths and depths of them and yet she could only barely touch the surface.

She felt some tension leave her at this release of anger and was glad of it. She knew launching herself at him when she had first received the note would have only proved to him she was as volatile and dangerous, as he no doubt believed her to be. Was that why he had done it? He was afraid she would blab?

She needed time to think about what to ask, what to say; to let the first flames of fury dissipate into smouldering embers. Did he really think that one note could put an end to it? That she'd go quietly? Maybe it was part of some weird game he liked to play? If it was the former then she really didn't understand him at all.

But why should she? They barely knew each over. All they had shared during the last few months had been their bodies. It had always been desperate and animalistic. And she'd enjoyed it, but she kept reaching out, kept trying to explore him. And every time, he'd pulled away.

She returned to the castle. A calm and righteous anger had settled over her now, and as she descended into the dungeons she felt dread begin to creep into her, like the cool air that rose from the flagstones.

She was polite enough to knock on his office door. He'd fucked her against this door. She enjoyed the surprise on his face when she entered.

He eyed her warily as she came to stand directly before his desk. He'd had her so many times on it.

"Can I ask-" she immediately cringed at her politeness. Why on earth should she ask him for permission to question him. She took a deep breath and started again.

"What your last message was meant to mean?" she asked calmly.

He was now fully focused on the books in front of him. It seems he couldn't bear to look at her - out of shame or out of disgust, she wasn't sure.

"I should think it was fairly obvious," he said dismissively.

"Not to me," she bit out.

"I'm afraid, I have come to my senses and decided it is not in our best interests to continue with our… detentions…You and I should not see each other outside of classes," he explained with an edge to his voice, "are you able to understand that?"

She bit her tongue to stop herself from screaming at him.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said defiantly, "I'll lock that door again if I have to."

"Is this some sort of game to you?" He hissed, looking at her now. His crooked teeth bared. "This is my life and career."

"And it's mine too," she countered. Her voice had risen and she tried to bring it back down. She felt the tears rush to her eyes again and tried not to let them fall.

She wished she could hide them, but he'd already seen them magnified and shining the dark and he looked away in disgust.

She couldn't help it. "Why now?" she whispered, as the first few drops slipped away from her.

What had she done wrong?

He sighed. A deep sigh that shuddered through his whole body and drained him of strength.

"This was a mistake," he said, sounding exhausted. "You and I have always known it was."

"And what about when I finish school?" She asked, her voice cracking, "Would it still be a mistake then?"

His shook his head.

"Of course it would be."

He still wouldn't look at her. She felt like throwing something, smashing things so he'd take notice.

"What did I do?" she asked brokenly, she couldn't hold it back anymore. "Why don't you want me anymore?"

He closed his eyes, as if he was fighting to keep his temper.

"Get out," he seethed.

"You're not going to get away with this you know," she choked out, before tearing open the door and disappearing.

* * *

**OH MY GOD, SOME ACTUAL PLOT?! Wowsers. As always, I'd appreciate any feedback. I realised this fic hadn't been getting as much traction due to me not noting the characters involved, like an absolute numpty. But that's fixed now. **

**Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you very much for the favourites, follows and review(s) so far. Be interested to see what you think of this little plot twist...**

* * *

On Saturdays, they were allowed to wander through the streets of Hogsmeade. To stray a little from the castle was hardly a reward or even something to be coveted as much as the younger students did, but still Ariadne found her feet taking her away from the school, out of the gates and into the village.

Holly was by her side and talking about her Divination studies. Ariadne was half listening, looking down at her moccasins and thinking about Snape. Holly had noticed she seemed a little down these last few days and assumed it was worry about exams. She had promised Ariadne a butter beer in The Three Broomsticks to perk her up a bit, but since his note, Ariadne didn't notice tastes anymore. Her throat felt swollen, and it was too much effort to chew. What she really wanted was to hide herself in the Library where people couldn't talk to her, or to be back in the potions classroom, watching him read.

"Do you know, I think Flint is following us," Holly whispered to her suddenly, and broke Ariadne out of her reverie.

Ariadne looked behind her and saw Flint and his gang jostling each other, like a troop of monkeys on the hunt, talking far louder than necessary about Quidditch.

Flint gave her a hard, glaring look. She promptly turned away and picked up the pace.

"Let's get to the pub," said Holly. "They won't bother us in there."

Luckily she was right. When they arrived, the atmosphere was so cordial and jovial it was impossible to think a fight could take place, or ever had in such a warm, cosy environment.

They found a small table in a corner and Holly plonked her things down and promptly went to the bar for the both of them.

Ariadne looked around at all the smiling faces, the giggles, the jokes of all the other patrons, and she wanted to block her ears. Vanish them all. When suddenly...

"Miss Selwyn?"

Ariadne looked up to see Lucius Malfoy smiling down at her. His voice was low and beguiling.

"I didn't think I would have the pleasure of seeing you again so soon" he said deftly.

He was cloaked in black velvet, his beautiful white hair drawn back to reveal what she had always thought to be a rather pinched and unattractive face.

"Hello, Mr Malfoy," she replied quietly.

"I hope you are not alone?" he asked, looking down at the other bag.

"No, my friend is over there..." she trailed off, pointing towards Holly being served at the bar.

She felt uncomfortable under his gaze. She'd been in the company of enough men to know what they were thinking when they looked at her like that. Like Snape has used to look at her.

"Good," he said finally, "I do so care about the wellbeing of Slytherin students."

"Some more than others I think," she said pointedly.

His lips twitched.

Holly was returning to the table. She was basically gawping.

"I will leave you to your drinks. A pleasure, Miss Selwyn."

He took her hand in his and briefly shook it with his gloved one. Then abruptly turned on his heel and left.

Holly watched him walk away in awe.

"What were you talking to _him_ about?" She asked amazed.

"Barely anything," Ariadne replied with an annoyed sigh.

"How does he know you?" She asked.

"I met him once when he was visiting Professor Snape…while I was in detention…"

She felt her stomach clench as she said his name.

"He likes you," Holly said, before adding a little enviously, "Most men like you."

Ariadne didn't say anything. She didn't think this was true. Most men didn't like her. They just wanted to fuck her.

Ariadne changed the subject. "Peter Prewett said something very nice about you the other day."

Holly's eyes bulged and that was the end of the Malfoy conversation.

As Holly talked, Ariadne drank her butter beer and hidden under the table she flexed her fingers of the hand Malfoy had just touched. They still tingled from the leather.

SSSSSS

After their drink, Holly tried to drag Ariadne into Honeydukes but she flatly refused.

She wanted to go back to the castle and sleep, or rather lie in bed trying to sleep, which was what she seemed to do every night now.

Holly tried valiantly to convince her otherwise, but eventually gave up, and allowed Ariadne to wander home alone.

As she took a detour towards the Shrieking Shack she felt a hand grasp her upper arm.

She recognised the black leather glove instantly.

Lucius was smiling at her again.

"I wanted to ask you to join me for a drink," he told her bluntly, "but I didn't want to intrude."

His hand remained planted on her arm. She certainly appreciated his candidness.

"Is this you as governor showing concern over Slytherin well being again? Should I tell all the students to expect an invitation?"

He snorted.

"No, you were quite correct when you said I cared about some students more than others," he told her, "I don't think I would have asked if you hadn't said that. It seemed like a challenge."

She rolled her eyes at him. "A Slytherin who likes a challenge? How original."

Still he wasn't put off.

"I very much doubt I'm like the boys in your year."

She laughed. How wrong he was.

"Aren't you sure of yourself. I don't think I'm as challenging as you think I am, I'm afraid. I'd just be a disappointment."

"Not at all. But you could always let me make that discovery for myself?" He suggested. "I wanted to invite you to my home. Why don't you let me take you away for a while?"

She closed her eyes. Gods, she realised, how badly did she want that? To be lifted out of herself into someone else's life and find out what living really felt like.

She looked at him with uncertainty. She knew his attention for a few hours wasn't going to make her happier but it would be a welcome distraction. And suddenly the thought of a proper drink was irresistible, even if it was in the company of a man who she knew was only asking her in hopes she'd open her legs for him later.

"I should go back to the castle," she said finally, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I won't be very good company for you."

He promptly let go of her arm, and put his arms behind his back.

"Of course, if you'd rather not, that is your choice," he said, his disappointment, albeit polite, was clear as a bell. "I was just hoping you could keep a lonely, old man like me company for a few hours."

"You can pay women to do that you know," she said in a matter of fact way, "I hear some can be very accommodating."

"As you said…I like a challenge. You live up to your namesake – I'd happily get lost in your labyrinth."

She cringed; he sounded like a bad romantic hero from a tawdry muggle novel.

"You don't like your name, I take it?" he said quite jovially, considering he'd just been rejected.

She looked at him with annoyance.

"I'm named after a woman who deceived her father for a man, who once he'd got what he wanted out of her, abandoned her, weeping, on a beach."

"Ah, only until she was noticed by Dionysus and he made her a goddess," Lucius pointed out to her.

"He pitied her," she replied dismissively.

"And to you that is a fate worth than eternal loneliness?"

"I've just had enough of it for one lifetime," she said quietly.

"Your father-"

"Don't you dare," she spat at him before he could finish.

If Lucius was taken aback, he didn't show it. He calmly bowed his head towards her, knowing that this time, he truly was unsuccessful.

"If you ever change your mind," he said softly, "my offer remains. I mean it."

She didn't doubt him. He turned on his heel and walking away.

She didn't know why, but in that moment, she found herself thinking about Snape. She thought about the night he had collapsed on top of her and touched her neck with a delicateness that pulled at her stomach. In that moment she had begun to wonder if they could have enjoyed something that was more than physical. What she thought was his quiet adoration of her in that moment had made her skin prickle with excitement. But now she realised that she'd just imagined it. He didn't want her now. But Lucius did.

"Wait!" she called to him.

He was ten paces away. He stilled, turned back and grasped her arm again. He didn't say a word, and then they were outside the gates of Malfoy Manor.

He showed her all his fine things. He took her from room to room and gave her wine. He asked her innocent questions and she told him small lies.

She asked him about his dead wife, but he avoided answering.

Her glass was never empty and soon she felt warm all over, and strangely happy. As if she was lighter, and the weight that had been pressing down on her chest for the last few days had floated away, as if it had been transfigured into a feather.

When he showed her to this bedroom, he had gently removed her jacket from her shoulders, while she stood still like a statue. His fingers unbuttoned her blouse and she began to shake, although she didn't feel cold.

He had touched her so reverently it had made her feel ashamed, and when she was naked before him, he had told her that she was beautiful, but she didn't believe it.

And when her flesh gave way to his, he had kissed her gently as he stroked her legs and thighs. She'd cried and he'd apologised, arrogant enough to think he was the first to ever touch her.

When it was over, he had remained on top of her, whispering in her ear all sorts of awful, sickeningly sweet things as he stroked her hair.

He refused to release her even when he began to fall asleep, and she had gingerly plucked herself from his grasp and began to put her clothes back on.

He awoke as she moved and asked if he could see her again soon. She shrugged.

"I really would like to see you again," he'd told her earnestly. She didn't reply.

When she returned to the castle later that evening she'd gone straight to the girls' dormitory without dinner. She curled up in bed, and let the self-hatred break over her like a fever, and didn't move again until Monday morning.


	6. Chapter 6

On Wednesday afternoons she had Potions. It would be the first time she had seen him since they last spoke and he'd told her he didn't want to see her again.

All through the lesson she had kept her head down and done her work quietly. Every time he came close to inspect her work she froze, like an animal trying to hide from a predator. But he never said anything to her, and she tried to pretend he didn't exist.

After the lesson she had packed up her things as quickly as possible and practically ran back to the common room.

"You look like shit, Selwyn."

Flint stood in the doorway of her dormitory, inspecting his dirty fingernails.

"What's the matter?" He asked, "not getting enough sleep? If you need tiring out I'd be happy to help, if you know what I mean."

He grabbed his crotch, and smiled horribly at her.

She refrained from rolling her eyes at him as she knew it would only make him angry. She didn't need that today.

"Move out of the way please, Flint" she said exasperatedly.

"Why don't you make me."

He took a step towards her.

They weren't alone in the common room but she knew that the few people still hanging about wouldn't do anything to help her should he get physical.

"I just want to put my things away," she told him, "I don't want any trouble."

"Then why don't you let me help you? I can even help you into bed, if you like?" His eyes were hard now and she knew he wasn't messing around anymore. There was something unhinged about him.

"Please get out of the way," she said, in a voice calmer than she expected, "I have absolutely no interest in you, Flint. How many times do I have to tell you. Now, move."

He tried to take another step towards her but before he could, she'd pulled out her wand.

"Touch me and I'll hex your hand off," she said, deadly serious.

"Miss Selwyn?"

Her ice ran cold as she heard Snape's drawl from behind her. His eyes drifted from her to Flint and back again. "See me in my office," he barked.

Flint was looking at her triumphantly. She swallowed and slowly put her wand away.

"I'll be waiting for you later, Selwyn," Flint said darkly.

She ignored him and the feeling of dread seeping into her stomach. She turned to follow Snape out into the corridor and back to the potions lab.

He said nothing to her, but when they reached his private office he motioned for her to sit down, before taking his own seat.

"I'm afraid I can't tolerate threats of dismemberment in my common room," he told her, "even if the student in question really does deserve it."

"Sir, I-" he held up a hand to silence her, depriving her of the chance to explain herself.

"Don't worry, Mr Flint will not be bothering you tonight, he will be serving detention in the nastiest way I can think of, for something that in his mind is totally unrelated. So you needn't worry about any repercussions. Rest assured your evening will not be ruined."

She opened her mouth to say something, but instead only managed a mumbled "thank you."

"If he does anything like that again, you shouldn't endure it. There are other ways of making him behave."

"I know," she said nodding, refraining from sounding too churlish at his statement. "I overreacted. But I'm afraid I lost my patience."

He looked at her carefully.

"Allow me, but you do not look well," he said finally.

She looked at him defiantly, "Yes, well, my personal life has been rather fraught recently."

She could feel her heart hammering rapidly. He looked at her for a long time without saying anything. He flexed his fingers.

"I'm sure whatever the problem is…. it can be easily rectified," he said at last.

She didn't dare breathe.

"I hope so," she whispered.

He nodded slowly in understanding, and she heard the tell-tale click of the door as it locked. She closed her eyes in relief.

"Sit here." He motioned to the centre of the desk in front of him.

"What about your note?" she asked, with an edge to her voice, "I thought this was a mistake."

He looked her dead in the eye. "It is. But I don't think I can stop myself…Now, sit on the desk."

Her legs felt like jelly but she managed to stand up and move in front of him, before sitting back onto the desk.

She placed her palms flat on the wood, and leaned back slightly. She felt feverish.

Her skirt stopped just above her knees and she watched him as he looked at her thighs, some sort of indecision raging in him.

He lifted his hands slowly and placed them on her hips, then he inched his face forward and buried it into her stomach. She saw and felt him release a long breath, as if he had been holding it for hours. She could see his back moving gently up and down as he began to breathe her in. She felt awkward and unsure as to whether she should move. But she so desperately wanted to touch him.

Tentatively she moved one of her hands to rest on the back of his head. It was the first time she had touched his hair. She barely had time to be surprised at how soft it was, before his head snapped back quickly. He stood up suddenly, knocking his chair back to the floor with a noisy clatter.

He kissed her hard. Grabbing her head with both hands and exploring her mouth with his. She felt in that moment that she'd let him do anything to her.

Then his hands were fumbling with his trousers, then they were under her skirt, moving her underwear aside.

Then he was inside her. His hands gripped her legs on either side of his hips and he pressed into her again and again.

She couldn't help crying out in pleasure as he filled her. The intensity of their coupling was such that during, and for some time afterwards, she barely felt real, like she'd entered a different dimension.

His teeth found her neck and she could hear him grunting in her ear, his breathing harsh as he plunged into her again and again. She wondered if it felt as good as it did for her, but she could barely comprehend anything feeling as good as this.

As she reached her peak, her arms wrapped around him, trying to keep him as close as possible as the walls of her vagina gripped him hard. She breathed out his name again and again, and felt him shudder and curse as he came.

For a few more minutes they stayed embracing.

Finally he pulled back, but as always, after they were together, it seemed he could no longer look her in the eye.

He pulled out of her and quickly redressed. She, however, didn't move. She understood now that this time was different - he had lost control, and he didn't like it.

"You had better go to dinner," he told her.

"I'm not sure my legs work anymore." She lay back on the desk. She felt carefree and suddenly happier than she had been in her whole life.

She closed her eyes, relaxed and took a long breath.

When she opened them again he was staring at her intensely.

"Get off my desk," he said softly.

She complied. He silently unlocked the door and she felt the happiness begin to seep out of her as quickly as it had arrived.

She moved to the door, her fingers on the handle.

"I'm serious about Flint," he spoke again. "Be careful around him."

She nodded and closed the door behind her.

After that afternoon, they had continued just as before. She had never been able to bring herself to throw away the enchanted parchment, and it sprung to life again with promises of secret trysts.

But there were other problems on the horizon. Little did Snape know that Marcus Flint was the least of Ariadne's troubles.

A few days later when she returned to the dormitory there was a large Eagle Owl waiting outside the window. Luckily the room was deserted. She quickly opened it and let the animal in. The owl gracefully dropped an ivory parchment in her lap, sealed with a dark green ribbon.

It was from Lucius. Enclosed within was a silver bracelet, made up of two entwined snakes; one with a green emerald for an eye, the other with a diamond.

His note asked to see her again. She felt physically sick. Guilt welled up in her like vomit and she tried to push the horrible feeling down.

She knew that the chances of Snape finding out what she'd done were minimal unless she confessed to him. She had thought about telling him, but she couldn't see what good it would do, only harm.

Even when it was happening, she knew that night with Lucius had been a mistake. But she thought it would be easy to put the experience firmly in the past. Now, she looked down at the bracelet with crushing remorse and outrage. Why did he think he needed to buy her like this? He'd got what he wanted from her, what more was there to say?

She didn't bother replying, but enclosed the bracelet once more, and sent it back with the owl to its master.

She briefly wondered if he'd think she was playing hard to get, but in the end she didn't really care. She wouldn't give Lucius any more attention; she'd clear her mind and focus on her studies.

She leaned down under the bed and withdrew the book that Snape had given her.

A Brewer's Guide to Potions by Eurydice Mount. She opened the volume to the contents page and reviewed it. Her eyes were drawn to an invigoration potion that she had heard of but never studied before. But before she could see out the correct page, her eyes were caught by a scrawl of handwriting on the inside cover. It said:

"To Severus, Love Lily"

She stared at it for a moment, before closing the book with a satisfying, dusty thud.

She thought for a moment.

She opened it again to the same page and stared down at the message. It was just another facet to his life she would never understand. A look into a past that she could never know, that she knew he would never reveal to her.

It made her ache. Whoever this Lily was, she had known him, and loved him, before her.

She closed the book again and threw it under the bed. Just like Lucius, she wouldn't think about this now. She would try not to think about her Potions Master too. But every avenue in this castle, every pathway in her mind, seemed to lead back to his door.

* * *

**Only two more chapters to go before the story concludes. How do you think it will end?**


	7. Chapter 7

NEWTs were over. The castle breathed a sigh of relief. It was mid-June and the seventh years now lolled around the castle, with barely a care in the world. They got under the teachers' feet and made them irritable - that and the heat.

Ariadne hadn't seen Snape in two weeks. He'd recommended, with all-knowing kindness, that she needed to focus on her studies and that he wouldn't "bother her" during the exam period. She'd been disappointed, of course. Her mind was already a tangle of emotions and exam related stress, but the suggestion had turned out to be fortuitous, given the circumstances, so she'd agreed to it with little argument.

Now that exams were done, it was usual policy that every seventh year had an end of year meeting with their Head of House. It was a final review of the school year and their expected results, in order to decide upon their next steps for the future. And it would be the first time they'd be alone in what seemed like an age.

She imagined a lot of the Slytherin girls when they had this meeting had very little to say. Most had marriage on their mind, and very few pureblood wives pursued careers after their nuptials. She'd always wanted a different life than that.

As she sat in his office for her own meeting, she clasped her hands tightly in her lap, as if she let go of them they would float upwards of their own free will. They suddenly looked very small and childlike to her.

She felt nervous, like something was crawling over her that she couldn't brush off. Moving up her spine and settling in her lungs.

The scratching of his quill stopped, and his black eyes were now focused on her.

"You're aware of why I have asked you here, Miss Selwyn," he said slowly. She sat up a little straighter. He hardly ever used her last name and it sounded foreign to her. "As you are nearing the end of your final year, and as your Head of House, it is my responsibility to discuss future career opportunities with you, provide guidance and advice where necessary."

She nodded but didn't speak.

"When we last spoke on this subject you expressed an interest in continuing the study of Potions, is this something you are still considering?"

She felt like two hands were pressing down on her chest.

"It was, yes."

He looked down at the papers on his desk.

"The other teachers, myself included, are expecting you to gain Os in most of your N.E. . Needless to say, a talented student like yourself has a lot of options open to her."

It was the first time he had ever complimented her. She would have smiled if this whole meeting wasn't so clinical and abhorrent to her.

He was dissecting her with his gaze again. She gathered enough courage to look him dead in the eye, and let go of a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"With your projected grades, you could become a Healer at St Mungo's," he suggested. She had once mentioned to him a year or two ago when discussing OWLs that this was something she was thinking of. She had been at a loss as to what she really wanted to do with her life. She had panicked and it had been the first thing she had thought of.

"Or, if you preferred..." he continued, more carefully now, "you could consider staying on at Hogwarts and continuing your training in advanced potions."

She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. When she opened them, she saw something soften in his eyes.

She wished he'd never said it.

"I won't be doing either of those things," she told him.

He sat back slightly.

"I'm going to be married this summer," she clarified.

He placed his quill down carefully.

"Flint?" He asked, his voice steady. She could tell he was trying, but he couldn't hide his confusion.

"No," she shook her head. "Malfoy."

He looked as if he didn't believe her, as if he was about to laugh. She almost took enjoyment in shocking him.

"What?"

"I didn't want you to hear it from anyone else," she managed to continue. Her voice sounded pathetic to her. "Not that Lucius wants it to be well publicised…"

He looked at her as if she was joking. But that look faded when she moved one hand from her lap and pressed it to her stomach.

"He wants it to happen as soon as possible," she continued.

His eyes flashed then. And she saw the understanding, and then anger, on his face.

"When did you-?"

"After you sent the note." She took a steadying breath. The words were thick in her throat. "I was unhappy. I wasn't thinking…"

"But you took the-" he began, but she already knew what he was asking.

"I know," she said with resignation. She didn't want to tell him her suspicions about Lucius; that he had given her something that made the contraceptive potion useless. She couldn't exactly accuse Snape of brewing it incorrectly. She should have hated Lucius for tricking her like this, but she mainly hated him for making her seem so careless to the man in front of her. She didn't want this baby anymore than Snape did.

She watched him very carefully. His nostrils flared and his mouth was set in a hard line like he was never going to speak to her again. She was right - he hated her now.

"I'm not asking you for anything," she said quickly. "Your colouring is… well, it's so like mine, that no one would suspect..."

She let herself trail off as she thought back to the terrible day she'd found out.

Her mother had visited her in Hogsmeade a week ago. Ariadne had complained of feeling sick and her mother had joked about a grandchild being on the way. When Ariadne's face fell with the realisation she hadn't bled for 6 weeks, her mother had flown into a panic.

Who had she been seeing? Why wasn't she using protection? How could she be so stupid? All her mother's questions washed over her, barely registering. A quick spell was all it took to confirm her worst fears.

When the world stopped spinning and she began to think with some clarity, she knew she couldn't say anything about Snape. She mumbled Malfoy's name and something snapped in her mother. An almost excited disbelief blossomed upon her features. Oh, well, Malfoy was different. Malfoy would be honourable. And what an improvement on the Flints!

Her mother immediately wrote to him. Ariadne sat there, unable to believe what was happening, as her mother poured over the parchment. She explained her daughter's predicament, and expressed her wholehearted belief that Lucius' would do what was right by her. A new Malfoy heir. What joy.

He had written back immediately with the proposal. The next day he had visited her in secret. He had told her how happy he was to hear of her news; that he would make her happy too if she would let him. That he didn't know what to think when she'd returned the gift he sent her, but he knew she'd see sense. He told her how he had been longing for another child and that a joining of their two families would be a wonderful occasion. She accepted all this quietly and impassively. What else could she do? When he was taking his leave he had kissed her on the cheek and lingered a little too long.

She'd felt numb afterwards. She knew she was powerless, but nothing seemed to matter anymore. Finishing her exams didn't even matter anymore. What was the point of NEWTs when she was going to be mistress of Malfoy Manor? All that mattered was the dark, accusing eyes she saw as she fell asleep.

She looked into them now. "You once told me that it was all a mistake, and we should never speak of it again," she said finally, "you were right."

She knew she didn't believe this. Even when she said it, she didn't believe it. She knew she'd never be as painfully unhappy as she had been when he had broken it off. But ultimately, she knew that the pain, and the sneaking around, and the lying had all been worth it; because in their shared moments together, she had been happy. And she had fooled herself into thinking she had made him happy too.

She knew that when she was older and wiser, she still wouldn't regret what they had done. But right now, the sadness at their parting felt like having a limb cut off. She knew it was gone, but she could still feel it twitching.

He was lost in thought, when he came back to her, she saw he had something settled in his mind.

"I see," he said, unreadable as ever.

They sat in strained silence for a moment, until she couldn't bear it any longer.

"Is there anything else, Sir?" She asked him. She didn't think they had anything more to say to each other. He'd forget this had even happened and she'd give birth to a new Malfoy heir. He wasn't going to stop her.

He shook his head.

She stood up and reached into her skirt pocket. She pulled out her piece of parchment and placed it on the desk in front of him. The final coffin nail.

"I should go," she told him. So she did.

**One more chapter left. How will it all end?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, guys, here we are at the end of it all. This an enormous chapter compared to the previous 7, and all from Snape's POV. I really enjoyed writing this fic, and hope someone, somewhere enjoyed reading it.**

* * *

To say he had been watching her would be an overstatement, he'd taken an interest mainly because she was a good student, and the best in her class at Potions, and because she had never caused any trouble.

Ariadne Selwyn had wandered through most of her years of Hogwarts like a ghost, never making a mark, never garnering any attention. So, naturally, he had to notice her.

It wasn't until she returned from the summer holidays to start her final year that it had all started. He'd seen it a hundred times before because it happened to all the girls; She had come back changed. She now carried herself in a different way, her body had grown and lengthened. The puppy fat had receded. Now she was all long supple limbs, curves and rose lips. Puberty had done its irreparable damage.

Now the boys noticed her too.

He'd certainly noted Flint's eager interest; he'd showboated and fawned, and when that hadn't worked he became cruel and brutish.

That fateful afternoon when the contents of the cauldron were spilt on the flagstones, he'd kept her in detention for her own safety, at the sacrifice of his own. For weeks they had sat in each other's company, barely speaking. And all the while, he had begun to covet her. He began to believe she was choosing to spend her time with him willingly, rather than a way of avoiding Flint, that she _enjoyed_ it, and a golden spark of hope burst into being.

He hardly recognised this sad old man he had become. When she was close to him, he couldn't help watching her out of the corner of his eye, taking pleasure at how she frowned over her work, her lips pursed in concentration. It sounded perverse but he saw so many similarities with her, the same eagerness to learn, the same proficiency at potions, the same loneliness and hatred of the other students.

When she had begun trying to engage him in conversation, the flame of hope grew stronger. He was not wrong when he thought he'd noticed an attraction to him, although he could scarcely believe a young, pretty girl like her was interested in an aged, ugly monster like him.

And then she had kissed him. He remembered leaving her inside his office whilst he tried to get his body under control. He remembered reasoning with himself; she wasn't the first student to try and kiss him, and despite his admiration of her, he needed to bring the situation to a close.

And then she had defied him. No one did that.

He must have gone mad for a moment - he couldn't otherwise explain it. He'd never felt anything like it when he had her over the desk, when he pressed into her for the first time, it was sweeter than anything he'd ever knew. Since then, when she was near, it was like someone had set a blow torch to his insides. Other times he would feel the guilt rise up in him like bile, as he thought about what he was doing, what he was really doing. How he abused her trust and his power over her again and again. But he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to.

Little by little he revealed more of himself to her. He didn't want to scare her, or humiliate himself in the process. The day when he had let her into his private rooms, he had felt more tension in his body than in the last ten years combined. When she'd offered herself to him then, it took all he could muster to shove her out of the door. If he'd let her into his bed, he was scared he'd never let her leave it again.

The parchment she had charmed had been ingenious, and he was rather impressed with her cunning. Since its invention it was easy to seek each other out, and for nearly every day for a three weeks they had met in secret and he had taken her in every imaginable way.

They'd almost been caught one day in April by Lucius Malfoy. He'd appeared in the lab without announcement, and eyed up Ariadne with an appreciative glance.

Once he and Lucius were safely sequestered in his office, he'd listened to his old friend with boredom, trying not to think about her soft thighs.

"That Selwyn girl," Lucius drawled, "is she Lavinia Selwyn's daughter?"

"I believe so," Severus replied, his eyes narrowing.

"Her father worked for the ministry, didn't he? Got caught selling secrets to the wrong people and had to run off to America. But that wasn't the greatest shame of it all - the mother wouldn't go out in public for months when she found out he had a second family across the sea the whole time. He never saw them again. "

Ariadne had never mentioned her father's abandonment of her family. He hadn't even thought to ask. Logically, he thought how this piece of the puzzle explained a lot about her character, with no pang of compassion for the emotional scar it had quite obviously left behind.

"She's a good looking girl," Lucius said nonchalantly, admiring his cane.

"You're not looking for a new mistress of the manor, are you Lucius?" Snape asked, half joking, even as he felt his stomach contract like fabric being wrung of moisture.

Severus couldn't imagine Lucius would dream of replacing Narcissa so soon. He had been noticeably changed since her death.

"Well, Draco gets lonely," Lucius said smirking, but there was a tinge of sadness, "It would be nice to give him a new brother or sister."

"You'll have to get round Flint first, I'm afraid," Snape told him, hoping that would be the end of the matter. "He's rather enamoured with her."

"That wouldn't be too difficult," Lucius quipped, "from what I've seen the boy's got rocks for brains."

"Despite that, your gift of the broomsticks was certainly very generous," Severus told him, attempting again to changing the subject.

"Only the best for Slytherin," Lucius smirked, beginning to make his way out. He paused for a moment in thought. He turned back to Severus with a sense of purpose.

"I couldn't trouble you for a potion, could I?" Lucius asked out of the blue, "A laetus laetificus potion? Only if you have one hanging around of course…?"

"What do you need a cheering up potion for, Lucius?" Snape asked with a quirk of his brow.

"Ah," said Lucius, a little uncomfortably, "it's not for me – for Draco. As I say, he has been in bad spirits recently."

If Snape had thought about it more carefully, and had not been desperate to get Lucius out of his office, he might have been able to stop it all.

He'd known Lucius was lying about Draco, but had assumed the real recipient of the potion would be Lucius himself. The laetus laetificus was common, and unluckily for Ariadne, he did have a small vial of it in his storeroom. The main ingredient was St John's Wort - a fairly unremarkable herb in its own way, but when consumed, caused side effects to other active potions in a person's system. Namely, the contraceptive potion.

It wasn't until she'd sat before him; her face haunted by her future, and told him of her upcoming wedding that he put the two together. Lucius had given her the potion with the aim of trapping her, and he had succeeded.

Of course, how could Severus had known at the time? He'd only heard Lucius praise her and then cheerfully tell him that he was interested in taking a new wife. Why had he been so complacent as to think that he would be the only person to notice her?

Except of course he knew he hadn't. Snape knew of Flint's dogged pursuit of her, and he had renewed his watch over the boy, as well as over Ariadne herself. He knew one day Flint would take it too far with her. Snape had thought he'd kept his interest in them both discreet, until one lunch time, a week later, Dumbledore appeared at his office door.

"May I speak with you a moment?" Albus had asked, his eyes twinkling, but Severus thought he caught a flicker of something more serious.

Snape had wordlessly beckoned him into the room, bracing himself for the worst and afraid to speak in case he revealed anything.

"I was hoping to speak to you about the upcoming N.E. ," The older wizard explained.

Snape did an excellent job of not looking completely relieved.

"Is there a problem?" Snape asked, as Albus took a seat. Snape chose to lean against the front of the desk, close to the aging wizard. He made sure to keep his posture relaxed and nonchalant.

"There have been a few replacement invigilators at the Ministry," Dumbledore told him, his eyes twinkling, "I wanted you to review those examining potions, and their not unsubstantial credentials."

Snape crossed his arms defensively over his chest, "Why should that be a necessity? The invigilators are always of the highest calibre."

"Some of our governors," said Albus carefully, "are worried they are not up to par. I assured them that they would be, but, alas, my word doesn't hold much value to some…"

Severus rolled his eyes and stated the obvious.

"Malfoy."

Albus nodded.

"He trusts your judgement," the Headmaster told him, rising to his feet. "Lucius seems under the impression that if the Ministry employs poor examiners, certain students who are less capable, will be given more lenient marks. He wants to make sure the exams are as rigorous as possible."

"No doubt he has seen how many half-blood or muggle born students are surpassing expectations and he assumes it is an indication of leniency in marking, rather than their pure skill. Whereas the pureblood students are happy to wallow in their own mediocrity."

"You would speak so ill of your own house, Severus?" Albus said with amusement.

"Believe me, Headmaster, I haven't missed the irony, or the enjoyment, of seeing the hindrance that pureblood privilege can wreak over certain students; they expect everything to come to them because of their birthright and do absolutely nothing to better themselves."

"Not all Slytherin students are so reticent when it comes to their studies," Albus pointed out, "Miss Parker, for instance, or Mr Perritt. Or Miss Selwyn…"

Snape hugged his arms closer to his chest, as if that might now slow down his pounding heart.

"You're right, there are some diligent students," he said in a matter of fact way. He stood up and moved to the other side of the desk. "Is there anything else, Headmaster?"

Albus thought for a moment.

"I worry about her, you know," the old man said finally.

Snape sniffed. "Who?"

"Miss Selwyn. She's always been such an unhappy child," Albus continued soberly, "with a very sad childhood… She must be careful or people will take advantage of her."

Snape felt his blood had turned to ice in his veins. He fumbled for words.

"I'm sure…she has more than enough sense to prevent that, Albus."

Albus looked at him.

"I once knew a boy in similar circumstances," he said. "He took some wrong turns, but he found the right way eventually."

Snape scoffed, but Dumbledore suddenly fixed him with a very grave look.

"It's never too late to find your way back, Severus," Albus said sternly.

Snape swallowed. He felt as if the walls were crashing down around him. "I understand… Will that be all, Headmaster?"

Albus didn't smile or twinkle at him, but remained severe.

"I hope it will be all, Severus," he said finally, "Or even I will not be able to help you."

When the door closed behind him, Snape put his head in his hands.

Guilt settled in his stomach like a heavy stone. He was her Head of House. She was his student. How could he have been such a monster?

Dumbledore was right. She was vulnerable, just like he had been at her age. He too had been seduced by his own dark desires, with no real thought to what he was giving himself over to, albeit willingly.

Wasting no time, he pulled out the parchment she had given him. He found himself marvelling again at her, but steeled himself. Then he told her it was over.

He'd been rather chagrined when she'd stormed into his room demanding answers, but he couldn't deny it was entirely unexpected.

He'd been cold and clear. It couldn't continue, so it wouldn't continue. He tried to remain unmoved when he saw something break inside her. He couldn't remember feeling as awful as he did in that moment, when he saw her cry in front of him, blaming herself, asking him what she had done, he had hardly been able to answer her. Red, hot shame circled his throat and neck and choked him. His chest was twisting so terribly in disgust at himself, he could barely manage to speak.

How could he let her believe it was all her fault that he'd done this, when she was so entirely blameless? But he wanted her to hate him, to know he meant it, to crush her feelings without a thought. He couldn't be soft and comforting, because he knew if he was, she'd never go.

As soon as she turned and walked out of his room, he took himself back to his quarters and had hidden himself away with a large bottle of Firewhiskey. He didn't remember the rest of the evening, but he couldn't forget the one thing he'd hoped to delete from his memory.

He'd been rather surprised by how much he missed her. To begin with he hadn't been able to understand why he felt so miserable and irritable with his students. Now he dreaded walking down corridors or going to meal times in case he saw her. He felt nervous and had difficulty concentrating on the simplest things. And each night, as he fell into an uneasy sleep, he saw her in his dreams.

He began to regret what he had done more than he regretted taking advantage of her. But then he thought about how she looked at him when he had crushed her, and how she would now resolutely ignore his existence, and he knew that he had burnt that bridge too successfully.

He couldn't help it but he still watched her. He still worried about Flint. That night when he came across them in the common room, he had stepped between them.

He'd forgotten what she could do to him. Once they were alone, the searing desire began inside him again and he despised himself as he turned into a wild beast. To be with her again was heaven itself and now he dreamed of her with even more startling alacrity.

Those few stolen weeks they had had were beyond bliss and yet the purest form of torture. He'd marvelled at his own control when he suggested they spend a week apart while she had her exams. Every night he'd sat in his rooms, fidgeting and unable to focus. When he called her to his office for their final meeting, he'd noticed the change in her. Now it was her turn to crush him.

When he saw the quiet announcement in The Daily Prophet that Lucius Nero Malfoy, 40, had married Ariadne Iris Selwyn, 18, on 03 August in London, he had carefully placed the paper down, and taken a long walk.

He blamed himself. If he'd been kinder to her, if he'd been less cold, he wouldn't have driven her into Malfoy's arms. If he hadn't given Malfoy the potion, she wouldn't be married to him right now.

He didn't think about the baby growing in her stomach. He couldn't allow himself to. That potential Snape child, destined to become an heir of Malfoy Manor – there was almost something funny in the idea if he could bear to have a sense of humour about anything anymore.

If he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure if the idea brought him some sense of comfort or not. If it was Lucius' baby, and that despicable man had achieved everything he had hoped for, Snape could be guilt free knowing that all the pain childbirth brought, and Ariadne's resentment of motherhood, would not be his fault. But if it was his child…well then, he didn't want to comprehend what he'd do.

When he returned to the castle, he'd burned the wedding announcement and watched until it was ashes. He'd been tempted to do the same thing when the invitation had arrived nine month later. But not attending was worse than being there, and as soon Severus stepped into the hallway of Malfoy Manor, he felt the gnawing feeling begin in the pit of his stomach. Of course this was a bad idea. But his foot was already inside the door. His presence had been noted and there was no going back now.

He walked through the corridors he knew so well as if in a dream. Everything felt familiar and yet strange to him. The same hallway was one he had visited many times before, and yet her touch was now everywhere altering it as if everything was a different colour. She had softened it all, made it warmer. And yet it was just the same.

He wasn't quite sure what he expected to feel when he saw her. He expected something painful, and he was right. Like a fist to the stomach, he tried his hardest not to double over at the sight of her.

Slight and light-footed, she stood holding her child. She seemed more resolute and solid now; motherhood had rooted her feet more firmly to the ground. It suited her.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she looked down at the bundle pressed to her chest. She didn't notice or care about anyone around her. Why should she? She certainly had never paid any heed to others before. But now it was because her attention was completely diverted to the baby cradled against her breast.

He realised he had been staring unguardedly at her for what felt like hours, so he broke away and moved slightly further into the room. Their home was amply filled with well wishers, old friends, family, and now former lovers. A few people greeted him, but like with most occasions, no one sought out the sulking, miserable potions master for conversation.

He took the first drink he was offered and thoughtlessly consumed it in one gulp. He wondered how much longer he had to endure this before he could leave.

He tried to resist looking over at her again, but his eyes kept wandering in her direction. He saw her hand her bundle over to Lucius, whose unguarded, genuine smile in the direction of his newest child caused a violent reaction within Severus. Meanwhile, Draco sat abandoned and thunderous in the corner.

Unable to help himself, Severus took in the scene of familial joy as the couple stood close together; Lucius looked truly happy. Even Ariadne had a glow about her that he had never seen before. He clenched his right hand firmly so that his nails dug into his palms. The pain was a welcome distraction.

A smaller woman, dark haired and bright eyes was stroking the baby's cheek. He immediately noticed her similarity to her daughter - Lavinia Selwyn - the judge who'd passed this sentence, bubbling with laughter.

When his eyes found her again, she was staring at him. He felt his heart flip in his chest. Her eyes moved to a solid wooden door to his left and then back to his, before she promptly disappeared behind it.

He counted to twenty and then followed.

Opening the door, he found himself in a smaller, darkly decorated room, with a large desk in the centre; the study. It looked out over the gardens, with large French doors opening out on a small terrace. The curtains gently danced in the breeze as he passed them. Stepping out onto the flagstones, he saw her holding onto the railing. Her knuckles were white.

She was staring down onto the well manicured grounds, but she turned towards him as he approached.

Up close she looked just as she always had done; an old soul with the face of a young girl. Her iron grey eyes were almost silver in the daylight. She looked tired, but calm - a totally different temperament to how she had been at their last meeting.

She swallowed. "How are you?"

There was an earnestness in her eyes, and her face softened as she looked up at him. He could see her pulse jump in her neck.

He clasped his hands behind his back. He felt like a bow drawn too tight on a violin.

"I'm here," he said. He didn't know what else to say to her. The question she posed couldn't be answered in the time they had, and even if it could, he wasn't sure she really wanted to know.

Laughter and happy voices carried through from the party, like the annoying buzz of an insect.

"Lucius is very happy," she said. Her eyes broke away from his, and looked back down over the gardens and her new dominion. "Draco is apoplectic."

He noticed now that she was dressed in dark red velvet. Inside it had looked almost black.

"Are _you_ happy?" he asked. His throat was very dry and the question sounded forced out.

She thought for a moment.

"I'm not unhappy," she said finally. Her hands clenched around the railing of the terrace. "It's terrifying that you can make one thoughtless, seemingly small decision and have it alter the rest of your life."

Her face became a mask of regret and he felt as if a hand were clenching tightly around his heart.

"I thought I'd hate her… the baby" she clarified at his look of confusion, "…but I don't."

He pressed his lips tightly together.

She was staring at him again. She moved quickly, and reached up to touch his face. He flinched away from her as if she had hit him.

"I'm sorry you're here," she said, dropping her arm down, before adding quickly, "I'm not sorry to see you, of course. It's just…it hurts."

He nodded in understanding.

"I actually have something for you," She reached into the deep pockets of her skirt and produced a book. "I'm sorry I never gave it back."

Snape looked down over the copy of _A Brewers Guide to Potions _that he had lent her all those months ago. It felt like centuries now. The volume opened up on the first page and his eyes lingered on the name inside.

A resigned look passed over Ariadne's face, "I could never replace her, could I?...Lily - the woman you loved before?"

"Why do you say that?" he asked, incredulously, "I was in love with-"

She pressed her fingers to his lips quickly, and her breath hitched. His feelings, for the first time, completely laid out and bared for her to see.

"Don't say it," she said with difficulty, "I won't be able to carry on living if you say it."

She withdrew her fingers from his lips. He wished she had kept them there; his heart was in his mouth and he feared it would tumble out. His lips still felt cold from where her fingertips had been.

They looked out at the garden for a long time in silence.

Two guests burst out onto the lawn from a door below them. They were young children; a boy and a girl. The boy was taller. They chased each other through the pristine hedges.

"You could have done so much more with your life," he said finally, as he watched them. "You could have been anything you wanted to be."

"That's not true," she said, wiping her nose, "The only thing I ever wanted to be...was yours…"

They both fell into a defeated silence, until a screech cut through the silence - the cries of a newborn.

He waited with anticipation for her to leave. But she didn't, not immediately. Grey eyes met black. He felt faint, as if he was floating, and he was suddenly struck with the urge to throw himself off something tall.

"Lucius is coming," she whispered.

From behind the white billowing curtains, he appeared. Strong and confident, his back squared and his arms enclosed around the bundle. Its howls filled the garden.

"Someone is hungry," Lucius announced in a sing-song way. Severus was once again struck by how happy he looked.

Ariadne took the baby from him, without saying a word, and went back inside.

Lucius watched her go. Severus didn't.

"What are you doing hiding out here?" He asked Snape good-naturedly.

Severus briefly wondered about telling Lucius that he was in love with his wife.

"I was asking Mrs Malfoy how she was enjoying life outside of school." It wasn't a lie.

"Ever the Head of House," Lucius smirked.

Severus gave him a strained smile. He noticed small translucent marks on Lucius's robes, and realised, almost subconsciously, that they had to be the wet fingerprints of a baby as they grabbed for their father.

"You seem happy."

Lucius looked at him, a crooked smile on his face.

"Do you know, I think I am," he said. There was a pause, and then Lucius said, more to himself than anyone, "I think I might actually love her."

Severus looked at him sharply and took a deep breath. "I should hope so."

Lucius' face darkened slightly for a moment. A flash of something uncertain on his face, before his grin returned.

"Come back inside, and you can meet my daughter properly."

The baby had Lucius's colouring. He had worried when he saw it that he'd be thankful or jealous, but now he felt calm indifference. Her white-silver hair was still too fine and fledgling to be obvious, but her grey eyes were lively and playful.

Severus looked down benevolently at the being who had ruined his life.

"Artemis," Ariadne introduced her softly, holding the small child against her protectively. Her face was one of adoration as it looked down at her blowing bubbles.

Severus knew this would be the last time he could see her again. He took one last look at Ariadne's face. He wanted to burn it to his brain and keep her forever like this. He wanted to do so much, to tell her everything he'd been to frightened to say. Because shielding himself from her in order to protect himself from hurt had all been for naught. Not when he stood before her, bleeding internally from the pain of seeing her this happy.

He wished he could tell her now how sorry he was. He wished he could love her the way she deserved to be loved. He wished he had done so many things differently.

A small, sad smile broke upon his face. She looked up at him one last time, her face open and expectant.

"I should go," he told her. So he did.

* * *

**The End. **


End file.
